


He's No Good at All

by KindOfEvil



Series: A Long Road to Your Heart [6]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Other, Slow Burn, The Seduction of Mairon, Years of the Lamps, mairon's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24321223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindOfEvil/pseuds/KindOfEvil
Summary: Mairon muses about his relationship with Melkor as he receives another unexpected visit at the forge.
Relationships: Maia | Maiar/Vala | Valar, Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Series: A Long Road to Your Heart [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715368
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	He's No Good at All

Steps echoed across the halls as a figure of a fire-Maia approached the gateway of The Great Forge.

It has been so long, far too long, since the last time Mairon was allowed to approach anywhere near these fires. For Aulë had forbidden it, at least until his fana recovered from its injuries.

The forge spirit breathed in; the lingering scent of fire, heat and metal; The smell of opportunity and hard work. Finally, oh finally, the wait was over. Finally, he was home.

Mairon entered the room, fingers falling over stone tables and shelves. Tracing various tools, trying to remember the feel of them in his hands. His light danced around reflective surfaces of bowls and scraps scattered around the room. Any other time the mess would have incurred ire, now it only enhanced the feeling of familiarity.

Mairon's own workplace lay in front of him, tucked neatly at the faraway wall, partially hidden out of sight. His safe-heaven, a place no one dared to bother him, save Aulë, his Vala. It was his little corner, perfectly organised -unlike the rest of the room. Tools were set in their own designed holders, arranged carefully by their use. All handcrafted by him of course, only a fool would rely on work of others. Mairon leaned onto the work desk. Palms pressed flat against the stone, back slightly arched. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips. This place; An extension of his very soul. So familiar, he knew it like palm of his hand and could find his way around even blind. 

Everyone who witnessed his reaction would call him melodramatic. Aulë would surely roll his eyes and laugh, or rather, he already did so, after Mairon launched out of his room at the speed of light as soon as the news left his lips.

Mairon believed his reaction appropriate, it felt as if an eternity has passed since he was last allowed to work. Maybe it has, who knows? Certainly not he. It's not like they have anything to measure time with. This fact made the wait all the more painful. How much time was spent rolling around the bed, trying to fall asleep then waking up with exciting new idea only to be turned away at the door of his beloved forge. Maybe the wait would not have been such a torture if Mairon had something, anything, to track time with. Then at least he would know just how much time was wasted, lying around and waiting for his fana to heal. It was not the first time the fire-Maia entertained that thought. A full plan of a device was already stored in his head. A small trinket, one that would be easy to carry and possible to craft with only scraps, as those were freely given to anyone who asks. A mechanism to measure time, nothing like it was ever envisioned, as only he was interested in such concept. Mairon already experimented with gears, levers and springs, yet he never crafted a full working device.

Aulë did not pay much attention to these works, for many did not have use in his eyes. So what if Mairon could make a needle always point in the same direction? It had no purpose in the world as Valar envisioned it. Still, this new project of his could possibly convince his lord, as long as he suggests it could help him keep track of time spent in the forge. His Vala always made such a big fuss about him staying here for so long.

Eager to work himself to the bone once more, Mairon sent a note of his flame spiralling into the forge. His song flickered in delight at the promise of craft, but his fana was dazed, unable to assume speed it used to. Frustration built within him. His fana needed to get back in shape as soon as possible, but it will take time, too much time. He sighed, if it was not for that stubborn Vala his form would not have rusted so much.

Speaking of The Dark Vala; Melkor made sure to pester him every so often, bringing many gifts in order to placate his awful mood.

The fire spirit huffed. It was not his fault! Mairon was made to be in the forge, to work til he could no more. Of course he was frustrated, being forced to remain idle for such a long time. And he made sure to convey that to the one who was the cause of all this misfortune.

Still, Mairon could not say no to Melkor's attempts to please him. His numerous gifts were starting to overflow the tiny storage chest in his room. And he caught himself looking forward to whatever new thing the Vala would bring him next. 

Another sigh.

As much as he did not want to, Mairon had to acknowledge that the Vala knew his tastes fairly well. Better than any Maiar or even Valar -including Aulë.

Mairon wanted to be angry, to shun the Vala til Melkor never showed His face in front of him again. But he could not! Not when the other dropped a whole sack of unknown ores and minerals right in front of him. Not when He brought him so many different, new things from around Arda. So many delicious treats he has never even seen before. Mairon cursed his own greed so many times he lost the count. It angered him, for his flames to be so easily soothed. He knew The Dark Vala was trying to win him over with a few trinkets -that was all those gifts were to Him, pebbles picked up on side of the road. He was a fool to let himself be manipulated like that. Aulë had warned him, warned them all, about the ways of their eldest.

If only listening to his Vala's advice was so easy. If only Melkor didn't look at him with those pale blue eyes. If only he did not see his own reflection in the darkness hiding behind them, a small burning speck among the sea of Void. Entrapped in a strong, suffocating embrace of raw power. If only he could not feel the strength hiding within that large fana. So incredibly tall, form both muscular and nimble. And with such an intriguing anatomy. Oh how much he desired to run his hands all over that body. To get just a glimpse of the fine framework that hid under His skin. To see just how different it was from normal form.

The Vala was so unique, so different, so inspiring. Such a forbidden fruit.

His flames flickered in excitement and he quickly stifled them. No! Mairon reprimanded himself. That Vala was a brutish beast whose entire being was controlled by his enormous ego and even bigger libido. As if such crude spirit could win his admiration. 

Well... He did.

Mairon cursed, plopping his head against the forge table. What was wrong with him? He already had a Vala, he swore allegiance to Aulë. His spirit was claimed by the music of earth and craft. It was highly inappropriate to marvel at another! A Maia is supposed to be loyal servant to their Great One. They are to adore and obey. Sure, one would listen to other Valar, as they were greater in power and knowledge, but never should one take other Vala's wishes above their own master. Aulë was his master, even if he refused to be called such by his Maiar, and insisted for them to call him a teacher -though Mairon still referred to him as lord, as was appropriate. Aulë would sigh every time he called him that, yet after a time he let go, seeing that Mairon was very determined about his form of address.

That was it: he was Mairon, a forge spirit, the best student of Aulë, his chosen Vala. There was no place for any other in his heart.

And yet...

Mairon groaned, hugging his face in his arms. Why did his song fit so perfectly with Melkor's discord? Why did the presence of such an awful individual feel good? He was such a mess. If only the Vala had never taken a liking to him, things would have been much simpler.

The thought left a bad taste in his mouth and he quickly chased it away.

Mairon sprang up from his seat, slapping both sides of his face. Enough sulking, there was work to be done and he has wasted enough time as it is. His fana was strong and fixed. It was time to clear the cobwebs from his mind and return to the familiar and oh so desired routine. Even more so seeing the forge was empty and no work was assigned to him yet. Now was the perfect time to craft something of his own mind. And Mairon decided what it was going to be long ago.

Reaching for the bucket of scraps Mairon selected a few whose shape and tone pleased him. Organising the pieces across his worktable. He counted them, assigned his vision to each and every one. Yes, he had all that was needed.

Something was off, however, for he still held one piece in his hand. Mairon did not need it for his project. It was useless to him, but something drew him to it.

It was nothing more than a smooth dark piece of metal, bent ever so slightly, like a claw of a mighty kelvar, yet bigger, more rounded, very much like-

He stopped his chain of thought. Was it not enough to be pestered constantly in the physical world, did He really have to invade his thought as well? Disgruntled, the fire-Maia threw the piece back into the bucket with such ferocity it almost toppled it over. Forcing his eyes away Mairon tried to forget the scrap, erase it from his mind and focus on his work. 

Unconsciously he kept glancing at the bucket, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the discarded piece and cursed every time he did.

As the fire soared and melted the metal, Mairon's mind finally turned to the task at hand. Hand reaching for his hammer, lifting it high up and letting it fall down with great strength. Ringing sound broke about him as he shaped the metal, a welcome melody echoing inside of him. He forced each and every piece to bend to his will, bringing their form to utmost perfection. Everything around him faded away. Only vaguely did he register the murmur of noise as his fellow Maiar poured into the forge and did not even notice it silence again as they left. He was not aware of his flames reaching for something behind him, nor was he aware of a faint footsteps as they approached. Not until A cool breath against the nape of his neck made him dissolve into the living fire and jump to the other end of the room. "THOU-!" He roared sending sparks flying around him.

A loud barking laughter shook the walls around them. "Well met, Precious." The intruder managed between laughs. "I see thou art highly engrossed in thy work again."

Precious, Mairon liked to be called that, not that he would ever admit it. Melkor had big enough ego as it is, He did not need any more encouragement. "Was." He corrected taking on a fana again. "Was engrossed," Mairon made his way back to his table, stomping his feet against the stone floor, "until I got distracted by someone." It was quite obvious of whom the fire-Maia was speaking of, yet the perpetrator did not seem the least bit remorseful. "Why art Thou here? Eru knows what lord Aulë would do if he were to find thee in his forge." 

Melkor shrugged with a slight "eh." The Vala was far too carefree for his liking. "I am far more concerned about thy scorn, not that of thy master. So tell Me, My Little Flame, dost My presence still incite thy ire?" He asked.

Rounding the corner Mairon huffed, pretending to be angry. "And what dost Thou think? Interrupting my work is not something I find very pleasant." His words were true, if there was anything truly awful in this world it is being disturbed in the middle of an important project. 

For some reason the fire-Maia felt like other was rolling His eyes behind his back, but did not turn to check it. "Ah, forgive my insolence." Melkor's deep voice echoed as He gave a mocking bow. "Whatever shall I do to earn thy forgiveness, My most admirable." He extended his hand, claws unwrapping and revealing a dark coloured pouch.

Mairon picked up his hammer, fully intent to continue working. "Another one of Thy trinkets?" His voice was full of fake disinterest, yet fingers twitched around the handle of his hammer and so did the corners of his mouth. 

"Thou dost not seem very interested." Melkor noted staying in his mockery of a bow.

"Do forgive me, but as Thou canst see, my mind is currently occupied by something else." 

The Vala closed his eyes, a overly mournful expression on His face. "It seems..." He murmured willing the pouch to disappear in a puff of smoke. "That My presence is still very displeasing to thee, I dost not wish to keep thee from more pleasant activities nor do I wish to incur thy wrath once more, so I shall take My leave." He cracked one eye open to watch Mairon's reaction. 

A hammer stopped mid-fall, his muscles taut. "Oh." The Maia racked his brain for a witty response, Melkor was usually more... determined in His attempts to please him.. "Go on then, I have plenty of work on my hands." Mairon tried to remain indifferent.

"That does not look like something thy Vala would request of thee." Melkor noted, a smirk plastered across His face as Maia staggered. "Ah, but what do I know about thine craft? I am certain Aulë would like to see thine work done as soon as possible." Mairon shifted nervously. "I was hoping a skilful Maia such as thyself wouldst be able to make use of this new metal I stumbled across. Alas, I suppose my gifts are inadequate for such an admirable spirit." He felt Melkor step closer, his breath caressing his neck. "I have found it, so far away, at the very edge of the world." Melkor whispered, His voice a low rumble that sent shivers down his body. A clawed hand twirled his soft strands of hair. Mairon could see it at the edge of his vision, it felt nice. He gulped. "I shall leave now, with a heavy heart, I only hope that there will be another, with such a sweet song as thine, who will accept what I offer so freely." And He was gone. 

"Wait!" Words escaped him before Mairon could stop them, a black cloud drifted some way from the exit. It had no recognisable features yet he could feel its gaze upon him, awaiting explanation. "I..." He started, why did it look like it was mocking him? "The metal, Thou mentioned..."

"Ahh, art thou perhaps interested?" The disembodied voice purred. One black shadow that looked very much like a hand extended with a glossy piece of black metal in it. "But thou hast already rejected My offer. What a shame." 

The fire-Maia frowned. Did Melkor want him to beg for it? Mairon did not beg, anyone, for anything. No force in the world would make him get on his knees and moan 'please, please' until he gets the sweet prize held just out of his reach.

His song had other ideas though, it reached for the Vala like He was the most beautiful gem in the world. He wasn't.

That metal, though.

Mairon dared to glance at the ore and the hand that was holding it, gulping to keep his mouth from watering. That was a nice piece. Really nice piece. 

"It would seem I have already overstayed My welcome, it is better to make Myself scarce, lest I get us both in trouble with thy master." With a triumphant smirk, Melkor turned to leave again. 

Curse him! 

Mairon's song whined and a strangled sound escaped his lips.

The Vala stopped. "What was that little one?" He asked innocently. "I have not quite heard thee." 

His body was shaking as Mairon forced himself to repeat the words, this time slightly louder.

A laughter sounded from across the room, "Thou wilt have to be a bit louder, Precious, for I seem to be hard of hearing as of late." The black cloud approached, taking on a fana midway.

Again coldness caressed his face. The Vala was looking at him smugly, fully aware of what He was doing to him. He should not give this to Him, the satisfaction of bringing him so low. He should not submit to another Vala this easily. And yet, and yet. He breather out, a shaky warmth that made He Who Rises in Might gently lower his eyelids and inch closer. The image took his breath way. Such a powerful being, whose strength was so great it radiated off His fana. A being that could easily snap him in half, that almost did so multiple times. Such a grand being was now looking at him through half-lidded eyes, His discord quite obviously enjoying the feel of Mairon's own flames gently licking at His notes. "I..." The Vala hummed, gently beckoning him to continue. Mairon took a deep breath, steadying his voice and putting on the most formal expression he could manage. "I cherish Thine gifts very much, Lord Melkor, and would be extremely grateful if Thou wouldst let me experiment with this new material Thou found." 

There, a formal request. Mairon lifted his head trying hard to keep a satisfied smirk from appearing on his face.

Melkor let His head fall with a long exasperated sigh. Mairon could swear he heard Him silently curse under His breath. When His head lifted again there was only expression of surrender on His features. "Very well, My cunning little one, I shall indulge thine wishes this time." Mairon could barely contain his excitement as Melkor handed him the ore. Immediately he set on examining the new material. Running his fingers over the uneven surface. He did not even notice Melkor pull out the pouch from before until His fingers pressed against his lips. The Vala was offering him a berry, new as everything else that came from Him. Mairon did not know why Melkor kept bringing him food of all things or how He managed to find so many different kinds. Well it was nice to get a taste of something different once in a while so he was not going to complain. Gently picking up the sweet-tasting treat from Vala's fingers the Maia murmured. "I appreciate the gesture, however, I do hope Thou art aware I am fully capable of feeding myself on my own."

Melkor shrugged. "I am." It did not stop Him from continuing to hand feed him. With a sigh Mairon returned to his ore, it was no use trying to reason with the Vala, anyone who spent any amount of time in His presence knew that. He let his flames dip into the substance of the ore in his hands. Feeling around, trying to determine all of its qualities. Ideas sprung in his head of how to best make use of such rare material.

For a brief moment Mairon glanced up at Melkor who seemed immensely satisfied with the situation and even chuckled a bit as their eyes met. The corners of Vala's eyes crinkled.

The fire-Maia noticed he was being held in His embrace, body pressed against muscular chest, one hand rested on his waist while the other held his chin, thumb gently tracing his lips. When did they get this close? Well, it was not that of a uncomfortable position, as it allowed him to feel other's form a bit better.

Mairon turned back to the metal. If only he could examine the Vala the same way he did his materials. What he would give to examine His form, so very much alike all others, but at the same time so very different. All the times he got to feel Melkor's skin beneath his fingers were far too brief. Mairon wanted to let his flames travel across that form, to feel every inch of it and reach deeper. To get a good look at all that it was made of, inside and out. But, he could not ask for such a thing. The Vala would surely be angered by such request. Even in the most ambitious scenario He would at least make him really beg for it; get on his knees and plead to be allowed a single touch.

Mairon lapped his tongue across Vala's fingers, trying to convince himself it was done out of diligent duty; Melkor was kind enough to feed him, the least he could do in return is keep His claws clean. It was definitely not because he wanted to get a taste and feel of Melkor's fana.

Definitely not.

The fire-Maia's eyes darted to side. The image of himself begging at Melkor's feet sparked something within him, a flickering of flame within his stomach. for a moment Mairon let himself wonder what would it feel to really submit to He Who Rises in Might. To let the discord wrap around and hold him.

Mairon heard stories of how Melkor gave orders to his Maiar, not requests, but firm, direct orders, the ones they were unable to deny Him. What would it feel to let oneself be commanded like so. To let the Vala handle him as He wished. 

He quickly chased the images from his head. It was not going to happen. He should not submit to such being. The one who would break him without a second glance. Melkor claimed to care about him, but judging from His previous actions it was hard to tell. He lies, He bluffs, He's unreliable. He is discordant and impossible to predict. One moment Melkor would feed him and sing ever so gently words of praise, the next He would push him around with the threat of destruction looming over his head.

Mairon could deal with some of the rough treatment, even being chased around by the Vala. He had to admit the rush of adrenaline felt strangely good. It could be called a guilty pleasure -to be caught and pushed down to the ground and held in place by someone much stronger than him. Even now Mairon could feel Melkor's claws digging into his side, holding him firmly in place. He was not going to chide Him for it, for he knew the Vala was not doing it on purpose.

There was a line though, a very fine line between slight roughness and impending doom. A line not to be crossed and the Vala walked eerily close to it.

It was a dangerous game, no one knew when exactly the other would get tired of him and just snap his fana in half like a twig. He already almost lost it thanks to Melkor's whimsical behaviour.

Mairon shuddered. 

There was a shift behind him, strong arms pulled him closer. "What's wrong little one?" Melkor chuckled and moved a strand of fiery hair behind his perfectly shaped ear. "Do not tell me thou art cold, here of all places?"

"No." Mairon shook his head, "Not cold." The Vala hummed seemingly trying to determine what caused the reaction if not cold. "I wish to finish my work." Mairon spoke before the other could get any strange ideas.

Melkor gave a slight nod and let him go. He leaned against the wall with His arms crossed over His chest, watching the Maia with a fond gaze. Mairon focused on his work, shaping tiny pieces to match the image in his head, the presence of The Dark Vala never leaving his mind.

And Melkor watched him, basked in his masterful craftsmanship and talent.

Mairon did not know when Melkor would turn against him. He would eventually, that was certain. It was foolish to trust The Master of Discord, yet he could not help but think that perhaps having the attention of strongest being in Arda was not such a bad thing after all.


End file.
